


Enter the Fall

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angry Sex, Depression, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fights, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, OC Lavellan - Freeform, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Slow Build, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Swordplay, cullen rutherford - Freeform, somewhat non-canonical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6458641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Former Templar Cullen Rutherford expects to fight against chaos, but the chaos he encounters with the new-found Inquisition is nothing like he has ever seen. A woman falling out of thin air, a massive explosion tearing the very sky apart, and unnatural occurrences will either be his undoing or become his steadfast anchor in the days to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone!  
> Fist time writing a fanfic, so please, be gentle... I really enjoy writing and I thought maybe I could bring a new perspective on the whole Cullen romance thing. I don't know how smutty this will eventually become, so hang on to your hats! It will get steamy later.

Perhaps more time. Just a little more time. His head ached as if it were the ground being pummeled by his soldiers’ heels. The slow advance into the valley did nothing to distract him from the pain. Except for the large green hole in the sky, he thought. Cullen Rutherford knew what was at stake. A meeting between the rebel leaders of both Templars and mages meant only chaos, and the result remained expected though not to the degree that he expected. Shouts from up ahead caught his attention. The ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes rose from a fog of ash laden clouds. Strange formations of the rocky mountainside jutted like knives into the sky while charred bodies rendered unidentifiable by raging fire seemingly worshiped the spires in abject horror. Burning flesh permeated the area. And yet nothing like the Circle Tower. His mind dipping into deeper into what should be left buried. Deeper within the blasted construct, the voices became louder and more frantic. 

As he rounded the corner of their makeshift entrance, shouts from commanding officers rang around the newly formed courtyard, and that is when he saw her fall out nothing. Flashing green light blinded him temporarily and then revealed two women, one shining like the sun while the other dark and falling from the light. The resounding thump of the woman’s body landing on hard stone reminded him it was not a dream.

“Quickly, get her surrounded! She may be possessed or worse!” Cullen’s voice sharply wrangled his soldiers around the woman. Archers, bows at the ready, held their target. He did not have time to circle the massive hole and took the quicker root by hopping down the uneven rocky slope. As he neared her, he noticed her shape. Short, but not dwarven short. Not too slim like an elf, but not bulky like a noble. Her hair fell in cascades around her face covering her ears. There were no telling marks on her. No horns of a Qunari, or Vashoth as he reminded himself, nor the unusual purplish skin either.

“Commander! Area secured, ser!”

“Good man. Send word to Lady Cassandra and Sister Leliana that we have a survivor from the epicenter.”

“Yes ser!”

The lieutenant rushed to a line of scouts and sent two of them running like demons were on their heels. Not far from the truth, Cullen inwardly chuckled. His attention then returned to the mystery woman. “Men, stay alert! Any sudden moves from her and you have my permission to fire.”

He saw her back rise and fall gently as he approached. Maker! Still alive! Laying his shield down as he breached the inner ring of ready men, he kept his sword at the ready. He cautiously advanced, treating her as a fully alert enemy instead of a potential victim. Trust is lost when all else is as well. Another flash of green light caused the group of battle hardened men and women to step back. 

It’s from her. What the bloody hell is going on? Still unconscious from her fall, the light failed to rouse her. Cullen had to take this opportunity. If he could restrain her hands that could restrict her use of magic, possibly. Ignoring the frothing rage culminating behind him, he gently lifted her up causing the hair to fall to her side. She’s elven. 

It was then he knew. He and the women who recruited him were about to face the most daunting task in all of Thedas.


	2. Fire and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is she thinking? He doesn't know, but the smile from her never leaves his own face as they duel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a great idea for a fight scene. Tell me what you think!

Six days. A week maybe, the green flashes made it hard to determine night and day. She fell from the sky and tried to close the wound and remained unconscious for the majority of the week. I wish I could sleep that much, Cullen’s thoughts betrayed him. There were more important things to worry about. Chancellor Roderick hounded his every step, each word out of his mouth felt like a stinging insect to his ears. He wanted more than anything to turn around and punch this blabbering bureaucrat in his face. No. He’ll get what he wants. He had to remember that there were greater things at stake than his forming headache. 

“If this Inquisition wants to survive any longer, it will need the support of the Chantry! You blustering fools can’t even…” The Chancellor was cut off by loud screams across the village. No. Not screams, cheers?

“Excuse me, Chancellor, but I believe there is more pressing matters for me to attend to,” Cullen spit out. His long strides made it difficult for the shorter man to keep up.

The gates to Haven laid open revealing the crowd gathered around the training area. Cheers rang out. Names he didn’t recognize and some he did, but one stood out; “Herald.” He pushed his way to the inner circle and what greeted him was the most heated battle he had ever seen.

Seven soldiers, swords drawn and shields up, cautiously encircled their opponent, the Herald of Andraste. The elf held a flaming great sword in front of her. Her eyes remained closed as if in meditation. Her hair had been gathered up to keep it from her face. Her armor was…Maker preserve me! She did not wear mail like the rest of the soldiers. Simple cloth and rope covered her breasts, and leather pants and boots her legs. She wasn’t armored at all, but that did not explain the soldiers’ caution. 

Well this shall be interesting, his thoughts wandered over her body and weapon. She was a mage then, but not like any he had seen. She was built like a warrior yet had the grace of an archer.  
One soldier to her left made a step forward, and her eyes snapped open. In a flurry of movement the soldier cried out as flames passed over his shield pushing him out of the circle. Cheers for the Herald cascaded through the valley. The other soldiers realized their opening and pressed forward only to be met by raging fire. She did not fight like brute. Each move calculated and executed with efficiency. Flowing movements like a dance unfolded before the crowd. Each move meant defeat for her opponents, and drove the crowd into a frenzy. 

It was left to one soldier. Her eyes darted from the Herald to the safety outside the ring. She threw down her sword and shield and knelt before the elf. The flames of the Herald’s weapon died, and a great smile grew on her face. She pulled the soldier up and gave her a hug. If there was any kind gauge for strange at the Inquisition, the soldier felt she was at the top of it, but she returned the simple embrace. Cullen watched as the elf went to every soldier she fought and hugged or shook their hands, beaming from ear to ear. Each one watched her as she left with a look of complete admiration. 

So this is how she wins the people, Cullen thought. 

Suddenly a rough shove pushed him out in the ring. “Herald! Herald!” The shouts flowed over him. She turned to him, eyes widened with surprise. He had to regain his composure. “Commander!” His men yelled encouragement from the sides. The Herald beamed once again and gave a simple bow to him. 

“My Lord Commander,” her voice sounded like a forest waking to the dawn. “May I please have the honor of dueling you? To yield of course.” 

“Not first blood, my Lady Herald?” He could hear the laughter in his voice as she met his eyes.

“Oh, I believe we both know that blood is a natural part of battle.”

Woops from the crowd gained volume. He felt it swell the waves of the lake in his youth. “Whenever you are ready, my Lady.” A lieutenant held out his shield baring the Inquisition’s eye. He readied himself as he watched her. She walked over to another elf. Solas, I believe, Cullen reminded himself. The Herald gave him the hilt of her once flaming great sword and received a smaller hilt and a shield. Her shield was simple, square wood with metal bands securing it in place. 

“My Lady, no one told me of your many talents.” Sweet Maker, he thought. Am I flirting with her?

“I like to keep everyone on their toes,” she replied. She’s flirting back, isn’t she?

They got into position in the ring. The crowd grew desperately silent. Only the wind and shuffling of feet were heard. As one man coughed, she sprang into action. Instead of flames, her sword was of pure ice. She danced around him, slamming her sword into his shield. Her blows felt like an avalanche on him. He had to push back. 

Push forward. Swing left. Catch her guard. Ram her shield. Twist back.

His body sang with every movement. He felt something slip on his body. She slide back smiling as his breast plate hung of his shoulder. Cat calls and whistles came from many of the women in the crowd.

“With your permission, my Lady.” 

“By all means.”

He put his shield on the ground and removed the dangling armor. Picking up his shield once more, he knew the battle would never be easy, and that brought a smile to his lips. He felt the cold of the Frostbacks through his shirt cooling him from the trying skirmish. It was his turn to make this his duel, his victory.

Charging forward, shield angled slightly, he feinted to the left. As she attempted to block, his sword caught her shield and shattered the wood. Left with only her sword of cold, she lilted away from him. He kept his shield up watching her dance. 

Oh shit. Without her shield, she was freer. Her dance more elaborate, more fluid. Each sword thrust brought him down. He needed less weight. His shield pulling him down as she rang his defenses. Swiftly he threw it aside. Feeling how much easier it was to move, he joined her in her dance. 

Riposte. Thrust. Guard. Push. Fall back.

He brought his sword down in a heavy swing pushing down to the hilt of hers. The ice biting his hands as the neared the blade. Cullen stared at her, smile never leaving him. Hers only grew more radiant. She pushed upwards, his sword with hers and twisted around. Her body now facing away from his but terribly close. He could feel the curve of her back against his stomach. 

And that lapse was all she needed. She brought her sword down dragging his with it. Pulling him over her back and slamming him into the ground. He felt his own sword against his throat.

“Do you yield, Lord Commander?” The smile never left her face. 

He could only smile right back.

“Never, my Lady.”


	3. Relaxing Conversaton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he tries to recover from his defeat, Cullen and the Herald find so one on one time to learn more of each other.

His arms ached. His back ached. Maker, everything ached. Thankfully he wasn’t alone. In his desperation to ease the pain, he threw himself into a snow drift not far from the training grounds. Heat radiated from his limbs quickly melting the snow around him. He turned his head to get more snow under his neck and saw her laying only a few feet away from him.

Why is she here?

The Herald laid deep in the snow. Her pale skin seemingly opaque to the brilliant whiteness around her. Soft rises and falls of her chest made her appear sleeping. He sat up on his arms to gaze at her. She truly was beautiful. Her hair had been released and it fell in cascades around her mixing into the snow. Her eyes fluttered open and found his. 

“My Lord Commander.”

“My Lady Herald.”

She smiled again. Maker she’s gorgeous. She pulled herself out of the snow and stood over him, hand outstretched. 

“Come on. I know a great place for sore muscles,” her smile invaded her voice. 

Oh no. Not another woman who just wants to see me naked, he thought. Too many times had men and women tried to strip not only with their eyes. Her smiles seemed genuine though. He grabbed her forearm and let her help him up. He held her arm a little too long. Her smile slightly fading alerted him to his slight. 

“Oh Maker, sorry.”

“No harm done, Commander.”

She led him to a small cave where a few soldiers and villagers stood at the entrance. A few men greeted him and the Herald. People came and went from the cave’s opening. Those leaving had damp hair and relaxed grins. 

“What is this place,” Cullen asked, afraid of the consequences however.

The Herald beamed at him. “Welcome to the hot springs.”

When did this happen? He thought to himself. Inside some attendants led them to changing stalls made of cloth. They were hand thick black cotton garments to cover their unmentionables and pushed into the stalls. Cullen never felt so brazenly embarrassed in all his life. Stripping less than five feet from a woman he barely knew. He didn’t even know her real name. Leliana and Josephine thought it some hilarious joke to never tell him. Feeling more than uncomfortable, he stepped out to be greeted by the Herald’s smile once again. Maker, does she ever stop smiling? 

“Lady Herald, Commander,” an attendant said. They were ushered into what Cullen could only assume the “Royal Suite” of the small hot springs. One or two high ranking officers and the occasional assistant to Leliana or Josephine. Cassandra sat at the far wall looking as if she was ready to murder anyone who came too close. Cullen kept his gaze high in an attempt to avoid any unwarranted eye contact with someone’s parts, but his eyes followed the Herald. The water made the black garment cling to her skin. Though it covered most of her except for her legs and arms, it hugged every inch of her. 

Andraste’s mercy, man! You’ll make yourself look more like an ass if you keep staring.

Finally she settled in a small alcove that thankfully allowed him to sink deep into the hot water. He felt it sooth his aching muscles and could barely contain the relieved sigh escaping him. This is what heaven feels like, he thought. The Herald sat across from him. The same look of simple pleasure passing over her face. 

Gods, she’s beautiful. He could not deny that. Wry smiles and taunt muscle were not the only thing she had to attract any man, or woman for that matter. She dipped her head beneath the water only making him feel even asinine. 

“Now Commander, it is not polite to stare at a Lady while she bathes.”

There was the smile, sly and mischievous. 

“My dear Lady Herald, why would I ever stare? There are others who could certainly grab my attention.”

She laughed. “And if you are thinking of Cassandra, I guarantee she’ll gut you for saying that.”

He just stared at a point on the wall. 

“You never call me by name.”

Her statement struck him. Even though it was true, he couldn’t just admit outright he had no idea what it was. He knew her clan name, Lavellan, but as for her given name, he was in the dark. 

Alright, time to save your own ass.

“It’s out of respect for you, my Lady. I can’t bandy your name around as if it were a copper.”

“So you don’t actually know it.”

Shit.

“Uh, no. Wait…I mean yes…Shit.” His sentence ended in a mumble, yet it did nothing to ease the smile off her lips.

“It’s Adamina. Or just Mina. Whatever suits you Commander,” she said with no sign of anger or irritation. If anything, it only set him on edge more. 

She’s waiting for something. I know it. 

“If I may Commander, or should I say Cullen? Or is Ser Rutherford more appropriate,” her question marked more with dripping sarcasm than any actual query. 

He played her game.  
“Commander, if it pleases you, in the company of the soldiers, and Ser Rutherford for all the other times.”

Was he imagining things? Did she blush? Was he? 

“You don’t seem to be a prideful man, Ser Rutherford.”

“I never have considered myself that, no. What makes you think I am?”

“Your hair.”

What? Surely not his hair. He reached up to feel if something was amiss only to find a flush of giggles from Adamina. 

“Why in the name of Andraste would you think that,” he had to ask.

She moved to his side. “Surely this isn’t natural. It wants to curl but it doesn’t. That makes no sense!” Her laughter returned. 

“I’ll have you know that all Rutherfords have this hair. It’s been our pride and joy for generations,” he exclaimed. “It is not curly. It’s very wavy, thank you.” He ended his miniature tirade with swift huff.

“Sure enough, Curly. You keep telling yourself that and maybe we just might believe it too,” a gruff dwarf mentioned while settling in close by.

Adamina seemed pleased by his arrival. “Varric! I thought you hated caves?”

“Oh I do, I do, but this one has got itself a reprieve.” The elf and the dwarf chuckled to themselves as if it were an inside joke. 

I will never understand them, Cullen thought. 

“So, Curly, trying to get in good with our Lady Herald, huh?”

Cullen had to blush at that. He hoped that the excuse of the hot springs would cover it up for him. Varric caught him anyways. 

“Oh there’s no reason to be shy, Curly. She’s a nice girl. You’re a nice guy. There’s potential. I’ll warn you though, Chuckles can’t seem to take his eyes off her. Either he’s so busy trying to figure out why she can open and shut the Fade like a door, or he’s trying to see if he can get his ‘opening.’”

“Varric!”

The dwarf became engulfed in steaming water.

“I’m only stating the truth, Sunshine!”

“Sunshine? Where in the blazes did you get that?”

“Your little skirmish earlier,” Varric seemed pleased with himself. He stretched back and said, “I think it’s appropriate what with your giant flaming sword of death.”

Adamina sighed, “I guess it’s only fair…Shorty.”

That drew something from Varric.

“Now, my Lady Sunshine, I was never derogatory to you. How can you be so heartless to a simple dwarf trying to lighten the mood?”

“Simple. A taste of your own elfroot, so to speak.”

She and Cullen laughed together. He was enjoying the spectacle before him. He never saw the dwarf get flustered, but there was a first time for everything. His mind settled after the laughter subsided. There was work to be done. Captain Rylen was overseeing the supply routes to the Hinterlands, and the herald was to ride there in a few days. He got up slowly from his comfortable position. His body complaining from the lack of heat. 

“If you will excuse me, Lady Herald, Master dwarf. I must return to my duties.”

“Whatever you say, Curly. Just try to keep your eyes to yourself as you leave.”

Something flew from the other side of the grotto and smacked Varric on the back of his head. Cassandra left with a disgusted noise and something about disgusting dwarves which only roused more laughs from the dwarf and the elf. Cullen left the comfort of the hot springs only to wonder if he would ever have time to do something as simple as relax again.


	4. Blood on Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragged into the Hinterlands, Cullen fights side by side with the Herald.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok warning! If you do not like blood or any depictions of violence skip this chapter!  
> There's sword fighting, blah blah blah, someone gets injured. There's your rundown.  
> I will always warn you of any not so fluffy sections.

Maker why does she always wear that, Cullen thought as the company made their way to the forward camp in the Hinterlands. Adamina Lavellan favored the qunari antaam-saar, all cloth and ropes and too much to the blasted imagination. He couldn’t blame her though. The Hinterlands felt rather warm for this part of the year. Even he went without his usual fur for this journey.

They were able to have horses for the majority of the journey, but the amount of fighting made them dismount a few miles away from their base. Stealth was never his forte, but he had to make it so for this stretch. Captain Vale would get an ear full from him later. Varric and Adamina took out scouts for the mages and Templars alike ensuring their arrival was quiet and without an early alarm. She had her sword of ice with her leaving her left hand to cast spells during battle. The few scraps they had been in allowed him to view her true offensive capabilities. Working with Cassandra, Adamina danced around them as Solas and Varric kept them from flanking. It was all impressive work, but his eyes never left Adamina if he had the chance to watch her. 

Finally they arrived at the foreword camp. The sounds of fighting in the small village below them intensified as they neared an overlook. Scout Harding, a kind dwarven girl, gave the Herald a report of the surrounding area. 

Adamina turned to the group of soldiers behind her. 

“Lieutenant, lead a small group of men to the Western flank, block off any reinforcements. Scout Harding says there is no way to get to Eastern flank from this point. Be on your guard for any attackers from there or the North. Commander!”

Her sudden address caught him by surprise. He thought he would get a break with her shouting orders. No such luck for a man like me, he thought. 

“Yes, Herald!”

“You are coming with me.”

He smiled. Going straight into the fray. This woman knew him all too well. He donned his helm and drew his blade. 

He shouted one last command to the men, “Try to get as many refugees as you can away from the battle! To arms men!”

There was no shout to rally them. Any more noise than the orders would give them away. The soldiers saluted. The lieutenant’s battalion splitting off to go around Calenhad’s Foothold. Adamina and her group went the more direct path to the village. They reached the outskirts and saw Inquisition forces already engaging the enemies. 

Adamina touched his arm, “I leave the men in your charge, Commander.”

She charged forward, sword and spells in hand. If he could he would watch but there was no time. With a fierce cry, he was behind her. Arrows and spells flew over them. Templar deserters clamored to meet their new foes only to be met with sword and arrow. The screams of men falling filled the air. 

Cullen could only focus on the other commanding officer, a large man baring a warhammer. 

Big. Weak spots, joints, back. Berserker style of fighting. Swing after he does. 

His instincts spurred him towards the man. He drew his attention and dodged the first swing. Quickly jumping to the man’s side, Cullen thrusted deep into his left armpit. Blood spurted across his. 

Hit an artery, he thought. 

The man, however, stood his ground. His swings grew weaker, and his subordinates rushed to his aid. Cullen, surrounded and outnumbered, looked for an opening to even the odds. His men were too far behind. Damnit! He was too focused on his target. 

The warhammer was lifted once again, slower but without any loss of potency. Suddenly a flash of fire to Cullen’s right. Warhammer dropped. Perfect slice to the neck. The man was dead. Blood covered his breastplate and Cullen’s. No time to waste. Cullen went for the attackers on his left, using his shield as a buffer. He sensed another body behind. Not an enemy. The movements were away from his back. 

Push. Stab. Bash. Wait. Slash. 

“Mages! From the East!”

With his current oppenents down, he faced the warrior behind him. Adamina. Her eyes focused towards the oncoming ice flingers and their sellswords. 

“Get behind me,” he ordered.

She glanced at him but obeyed. He charged forward, shield up and sword at the ready. She was right behind him matching his stride. He slammed into the first mercenary. Adamina took the opening to close in on the ice mage. She flung more fire at the woman to throw off her aim. Rolling behind the woman, she quickly severed the spinal cord. 

“Varric, Western flank!”

“You got it Sunshine!”

The dwarf took out a glass flask filled with a sickly green fluid and tossed it to oncoming Templar knights. Poison filled the air around them burning their eyes and lungs. Those that were not picked off by spells or arrows were greeted with the sharp end of a blade. One last man remained. His tower shiled blocking all arrows and spells from his body. Cullen knew he would not be easy like the warhammer. 

“Solas, Varric! Get those men out of there.” Adamina’s voice rang out like a trumpet. He could see out of the corner of his eye the pair getting wounded soldiers and civilians out of harm’s way. She cautiously approached the last Templar. Her sword at her side but still ready.

“Serah, put down your weapons and we promise not to harm you,” she attempted to talk him down.

“Why should I believe an elven bitch like you?!” He sounded erratic like his mind was failing. 

He hasn’t had lyrium, Cullen thought. Maker he’s gone mad.

“Serah, please,” she continued to plead with him. “We just want peace.”

“Bullshit!”

He lunged at her. Cullen felt as if time slowed before him. His steps took weeks, but the swing of the Templar’s sword felt like forever. Adamina launched herself with a blast of flames. The Templar had over extended himself which gave Cullen the need time to reach him. He rammed into the man’s side pushing him down into dirt. Cullen stepped on his sword arm, blade to his throat.

“She offered you surrender,” he growled. 

“Death first!” The man spat at Cullen’s feet. 

Adamina hobbled next to him. “Grant him his wish,” she barely whispered. The man’s death was swift. A simple push of the blade into his throat ended his life. Cullen never did like this part of battle. Adamina crumpled next to him. Solas rushed to her side.

“Halani,” she gasped. A branch had pierced her side. Blood spilled from her wound making her paler by the second.

Solas started his magic over her.

“Banal sahlin. Ir tel nuvenin dar u.” 

Cullen could hear the desperation in his voice. He never understood elven, but there was something the male elf kept to himself as he healed their Herald. The wound did not leak as much blood as before, but Solas tired.

“She should be fine for now,” his said through gasps of air.

Cullen reached behind his back. He kept a pouch of bandages and elfroot on him for moments like this. Throwing his helmet aside, stuff a few leaves of elfroot in his mouth. He chewed on it until it was a paste. After spitting it on his hand, he smoothed it over the wound.

“Varric, hand me your flask,” he bellowed. The dwarf responded with outstretched container.

“Is it whiskey?”

“It better be.”

Cullen drenched the bandages with the alcohol and handed it back to Varric.

“I owe you a drink.”

Varric put his head in his hand. “Wait till after you patch her up, Curly.”

He gently lifted her up. Her breaths coming in quick pants. He needed to get bandage on her fast. Solas held her while Cullen wrapped her stomach with the cloth. There needed to be another layer of cloth to cover the alcohol. Cullen used his sword to tear off a piece of his tunic. It wound around her twice, and he secured it. Solas mumbled something.

Cullen glanced to him, “What was that?”

“She’s rousing.”

Adamina’s eyes flared open. Open ferocity and pain wove through them. She reached for her side pouch. Cullen reached it first. He removed a bright red vial from within.

“This will taste like shit,” she whispered. 

Cullen looked at her sympathetically and tilted the vial to her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a love hate relationship with fight scenes. The action is great, the death not so much.  
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and bookmarks! It means a lot that you are enjoying it so far.  
> Have an awesome day!


	5. Blue Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragged to the Hinterlands, Cullen finds himself passing time with the Herald only to become victim to lyrium withdrawal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so rating is staying at mature for now. Now bloody battle scenes, but there is some drug withdrawal. Fair warning. Thank you to everyone who has read this. I'm glad you are enjoying it so far!  
> I'll try to make sure I update on weekdays. You are permitted to berate me if I don't.

Three days passed since her injury. The group of soldiers who went with the lieutenant were attacked by demons pouring from a rift which left their western flank unguarded. Once they cleared the area, Adamina closed the rift after being carried in a litter. This was the norm for the small time they were there. Inquisition forces gathered much needed supplies for the refugees, and when a rift was found, they cleared out the area for the Herald. 

She tried to walk on the second day, but her side pained her so much she collapsed. Cullen and Cassandra took over much of the efforts to restore stability. She had taken a contingent of men to Horsemaster Dennet to secure mounts in the morning. Solas and Varric hunted for rams and blankets with a group of scouts. So Cullen was alone in the forward camp with a few soldiers keeping guard and an injured Herald. 

Maker preserve me, I hate waiting, he thought.

It made no difference that the occasional rebel stumbled into camp letting them have some excitement, but Cassandra and the others cleared out both Templar and mage camps the day before. All the main forces left, and the stragglers were nothing but a minute worth of exercise. He paced through the camp trying to avoid the paperwork in his tent. Finally he gave in.

Muttering curses, he entered his temporary residence. Eyes closed, he tried to relax. He removed his armor. He debated within himself to remove his shirt but decided against it. Too many people trying to see what I look like naked, he chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

He nearly leapt out of his own skin. Without his sword he only had his fist, but she sat there calmly examining the mound of papers next to his bedroll. Still bandages around her stomach, which only accented her figure, her antaam-saar clung to her skin. She seemed amused by his reaction, but she kept herself quiet possibly to keep herself from hurting herself from laughing. She pondered over the papers, some of which got crumpled and thrown away. Cullen reacted by gathering them up and straightening them out.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? These may be important,” he said glancing down at them. 

She only smirked at him, replying, “Oh so you keep your love letters and needless reports?”

“They are not needless.”

“So you need a copy of the report we sent to Haven this morning?”

“No…It’s just…It’s nice to have.”

She laughed this time gripping her side to relieve the pain. “Commander, you and I have a very different idea on what’s nice to have.”

Wiping away something from her eyes, she said, “Well, Commander, I’m bored. The healers say I can’t fight for another week at best, so let me help you with this monstrosity you call work.”

He settled across from her. They rummaged through reports finding requisitions scattered throughout. Adamina organized the papers while mumbling something about it irritating her to no end. Soon they had three stack of requisitions, reports, and what she deemed “useless garbage fit for fire starter.” Cullen could not remember when he actually had some semblance of organization.

“I should let you in my quarters back in Haven, though I’m afraid you’ll set it aflame,” he teased.

She thought for a second, and replied, “There are quite a few female officers, and male mind you, who would gladly share a tent with you.” Her smile grew wicked as his blush deepened. 

“We should get these done,” he blurted, only causing her to laugh again. They paused at noonday for a meal and some fresh air. When they returned, they left the tent flap open to let some air in. Some troops gave them suspicious glances, but after a second look, they recanted. Others decided that the two had a very intimate relationship, but Cullen silenced them with a stare while Adamina only laughed.

The sun continued to beat down on the camp even though it had been three bells since noon. Cullen felt his shirt cling to him like a second skin. They were almost done with the requisition stack. She had placed a few stones on them to keep from blowing away. He rose and open the other side of the tent allowing the breeze to flow freely. She sighed in relief but never took her eyes off the report she was reading. 

As Cullen approached her, he truly looked at her. Her long hair had been secured by a braid swept over her shoulder. It fell in deep brown waves, like chocolate or dark mud, which he reminded himself is not something one says to a lady. Her face reminded him of a bird of prey, slightly hooked nose and striking eyes. She did not wear makeup, either because the heat wore it away or she did not like it. Her body was lean with strong muscle though rather large for her kin. Her tattoos faintly ran across her skin with a blue tinge. He had seen her at her full height, and she was short for an elf. Though not everyone’s type, he thought, she could and probably will have many suitors if Josephine has any say.

She looked up at him, a question in her eyes. He sat down once more and talked with her about possible troop movements and scouting parties. They had not gotten far in their conversation when a cheer rose up from the camp. Cullen helped her up so she could view the commotion. A great horse walked towards the center of camp, chestnut brown and regal. This animal knew its strength and played up on them. Mounting this creature was Cassandra. She quickly hopped down and strode to Adamina.

“Herald. Commander,” her Nevarran accent caused the words to sound more important than they were to him. “Horsemaster Dennet has been secured. I have men setting up watchtowers around the farmland. A group of our best are confronting a group of demon-possessed wolves to the north. There is a rift to the…”

She gave a full report to Adamina while Cullen roamed towards the horse. It eyed him with caution. His memories of Honneleath flooded back to him. Following his father in the fields as the horse pulled the plough through the tough ground. Going to the village with a wagon full of crops. Watching the Templars spar during festivals. His head burst into a fiery headache. The horse snorted and nuzzled him as if to calm the raging fire contained within him. Flames licked the back of his neck, blue fire burning the ends of his nerves, and a keening song rang through his ears.

“Cullen!”

He struggled to realize who called his name as darkness threatened to close in. A slap stung his cheek, and his eyes focused on Cassandra standing over him, eyes boring into his own. The Herald watched him from a distance with concern. Cassandra hauled him to his tent and demanded answers. He told her everything. The past few weeks and months without the drug he had been given in his youth, lyrium. Its blue calling still tingling in his blood. He saw Adamina greet Solas and Varric who had returned with ten large rams on poles and a heavily marked map. Cullen stumbled over his words as he tried to tell Cassandra that he was unsure if he should maintain his position. This was met with another slap.

She was less than an inch away from his face, teeth bared. “You are no use to us if you lose faith in yourself this early,” she growled and pulled back. “You are the leader of our men. They trust you, and you will abandon them because of one weakness? Where is your strength man?! Where is your faith? I would not have recruited you if I did not have faith in you.” She sighed and put her head in her hand. “I cannot have this. If the withdrawals get any worse than a headache, I will concern myself, but for now, you are to be more than a man, Cullen. Those men look to you for inspiration. You will not dare disrupt that trust they have with you while I’m still breathing.”

“Yes, mother,” he mumbled. 

She chuckled, “You’re lucky that my lecture is the only reason I will not slap more sense into you.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched to the Herald. He watched as Adamina listened to her companions’ reports. She had their trust, just as he had the trust of his soldiers. Inside him, the battle continued to rage. Blue fire trying to claim the light of hope within him. A whisper caught his attention.

“You are more. A light in the dark. Reaching, wanting. It is not you.”

He quickly turned but saw no one in his tent with him. Just the headache, he thought.


	6. Songs in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen falls prey to inner most demons.

The expedition to the Hinterlands was successful. Securing mounts and stabilizing the area ensured a positive outlook on the Inquisition and allowed them to call a meeting of clerics in Val Royeaux. Further expeditions into the Storm Coast and the Fallow Mire allowed for new allies with Avaar of the Frostbacks and valuable salvage operations of long forgotten ships. The only pressing matter was the future alliance with mages or Templars to close the Breach. Adamina was busy telling anyone who would listen that the Fallow Mire was where the Maker sent sinners, and her new companions were causing trouble. 

The large Qunari man, Iron Bull, talked with his band of mercenaries and the Warden, Blackwall, about various methods of magic defense. The elf, Sera, tortured the Tevinter mage, Dorian, with obscene gestures and berating questions. First Enchanter Vivienne conversed with Solas sometimes becoming cross with him when his sentiments did not match her own. Cullen watched the group at the tavern. Adamina laughed with Varric while Cassandra examined some documents next to her dinner. The hodge podge group drew the attention of the villagers. They did not act like a well-rounded unit. Some were angry with each other for differing opinions. The rest could not care less about what the others thought. Fights between the mages, Vivienne, Dorian, and Solas, was commonplace. The rest got on well enough when Sera was not being an ass. 

At the center was Adamina. She brought these people together. They admired and respected her. These people could be so much more, he thought. Her laugh trickled across the room. Varric told her something about a shield. She only laughed harder. Cullen reveled in the song of her. He knew he did not deserve it, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. After the Hinterlands, he became too busy to accompany the groups on expeditions. Times when she was in Haven allowed him to just bask in her presence like she was the sun. She had decided to abandon her antaam-saar for a much warmer set of clothes which suited Cullen just fine. Though he enjoyed the view of the qunari dress, it did not provide her ample protection from blade or cold. She would be beautiful in rags, he thought, then mentally smacked himself.

She, unattainable by any man, was not a trophy to be won. He couldn’t view her as such. Men and women looked at her with admiration and desire. Desire. He remembered her well. She danced before at the Circle while he sat forced to watch the depravities of demons. The sick twisted forms of former mages darted before his eyes. The men he had called brothers falling to possession or death. Seductive shapes of demons and their power spoke of untold glories if only he would accept. He tried to shake the thoughts from his head, but blood filled his inner thoughts. His friend succumbed to a despair demon. The Templar’s neck snapped with a sickening pop as a pride demon stepped on her head. Blood and brains sloshed over the floor. The demon gently lifted part of her brain and ate it in front of him. 

Cullen felt a sickening thud in his gut. Adamina’s eyes bored into him. Her fist reddened as he realized she punched him. He felt the air escape and finally heard the tail-end of his screaming. Tears fell down his face as he sank to his knees. She did not question him, only lifted him back to his feet. He felt her arm support him as she led him out of the tavern into the cold. The Breach shone bright in the sky, covering any stars. His breath clouded in front of him. She nudged him to the small cabin used as her residence. The stairs proved a bit daunting, but he managed with her help. She leaned him against the wall while she opened the door.

Inside, he saw her true self. Books sat in scattered stacks around her bed and desk. The rug in front of the fire place had pillows and blankets spread across. Papers covered in complex diagrams and notes fluttered in the breeze coming from the door. For all of her organization rants, she herself was not as organized as she claimed. 

“You should lay down,” her voice sounded more shaken than he felt. 

With great care, she moved him to the bed. His head split from the inside. The blue fire returned with force. It blazed around his mind like a dragon. Pain erupted from every nerve in his body causing him to seize. His vision darkened and his screaming resumed. He heard Adamina mutter curses and spells. The flailing arms cemented themselves to the bed. Kicking and screaming, he relived every moment that terrified him. Nothing was safe from the demons within himself. Faces of the dead rimmed in blue flames moaned their deaths to him. Blame fell on his shoulders, they said. He caused them to die. The pressure of death and despair lingered. He could die now. He could end his killing spree if only he move his arms. 

In his deepest thoughts, a whisper lingered. “You are more.” Was he more? More than a murderer? Than an unworthy survivor? Too many died in his dreams and life. No more blood in his hands. No more death to clog his mind. Another voice joined the cacophony. It was so quiet, almost indistinguishable from the storm of the dead. It did not scream at him but sang. A soft delicate melody flowed through him with warmth and gentleness. Slowly, the music rose to match the screams. In it was the chorus of those he saved. Joys of victories, tears of gratitude, and the relief of safety given brought him to a place of soft silver and gold light. He heard the voice of the Herald. She sang loudest of the chorus. She sang of hope, future lives to save, the joy of new life brought by his success. He wanted these things to be true. He only had to reach out for her. 

He awoke to Adamina’s soft breathing. Her torso laid dangerously close to the edge of her bed. Cullen realized she had sat in a chair the whole night watching him. His arms, no longer bound to the bed, reached out to her. His hand barely grazed her arm when she shot up. 

“Are you alright?!” Her voice sounded ragged and exhausted. Her eyes were framed by dark circles, and her hair flew out of her usual braid. Bedraggled, she was still beautiful to him. 

“I’m fine,” he barely choked out. His voice must have been hoarse from screaming all night. 

“Oh thank the Maker.” She collapsed again. She slowly crawled into the bed and curled up on the opposite side of him. 

“It’s not yet dawn. Cassandra came by earlier and said you needed a day off. Get some more sleep. If not for your own sake, then for mine.”

After seeing her radiating song, Cullen knew he had no choice but to listen to the spirit of hope that had nestled beside him.


	7. Anger and Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Mina have a few heated exchanges....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! SEX!! If you don't want to read it, skip it....Unless you are me. Then read a few times.

It felt like decades since Haven. After securing the assistance of the mages, the village was attacked en masse. An army overran the small village, only stopping once the Herald launched a mountain at the opposing force. The frantic retreat from the devastating avalanche caused a severe drop in morale along with the temporary loss of the Herald. Something just never added up. One step forward, two steps back, Cullen thought. 

He walked the battlements of the new fortress they now occupied. Solid stone beneath his feet felt secure. Stark cliffs to the rear ensured any army would be funneled to the main gates which were stronger than a dragon. The grounds were spacious, and the men spaced themselves out. Tents lined the walls. The dwarven engineers built scaffolding all over the walls. A set of them worked on the rear wall that had buckled in. Cullen wondered if they would build outwards. Various towers dotted the walls. He had seen proposals to turn them into barracks. Other plans detailed tunneling below the fortress to increase the living quarters. 

He was fortunate. Cullen had been granted to floors of one of the towers beside the main gate. It was a luxury compared to the tent back at Haven, and the privacy it allowed him assisted with the constant headaches. He tried to block out most of the light entering his office, but the few rays that passed his curtains struck him like punch. The lyrium that remained in him struggled to rebuild itself. It would make him miserable until he took another draught. Entering his quarters, Cullen eyed the box containing his last reserves of lyrium. 

He sat for hours, unmoving and almost unblinking, gazing at the box. The consequences of taking it again weighed on his mind. He could start again, but suffer the eventual madness that would follow. He was getting to old. Only thirty years old, that meant ten more years until the blue fire tightened its grip on him. Abruptly he stood, hands on either side of the box. He had to decide. He must make a decision. Rage filled him. There was no victory against this enemy. It would consume him until the end of his days. He beat his fist into the desk letting the pain anchor him to reality. The lyrium taunted him from its confines. Whispers of power and relief leaked out of the cracks in the wood. 

“DAMNIT ALL!!” He threw the box across the room, right next to Adamina’s head. 

Shock grew across his face. 

“Maker, I am so sorry. Please…”

“At least you missed my face. I have thousands who want to look at it.”

Her joke only got a small smile, more pain than amusement. She cautiously approached him. He buried his face in his hands and begged himself to be dreaming. Not her, anyone but her. She doesn’t need to see me like this, he thought. 

A soft hand touched his cheek. “Look at me,” she whispered. “Please.”

He slowly met her gaze. Her eyes brimmed with care and concern. There was no defending himself from her. All the reservations he had as a Commander crumbled under loving eyes. Her loving eyes. He did not deserve her. She represented forgiveness. If she wasn’t sent by the Maker, then surely he would accept her to his side. 

“Cullen, please talk to me.”

As he looked back at her, his eyes filled with tears. Shame overwhelmed him. He was not worthy of this position, the loyalty of his men, the chance to love this woman who made him feel more. She listened to him, never questioning anything. He told her everything. How Kinloch scarred him and turned him against all mages. How in Kirkwall the hatred was released by Knight-Commander Meredith upon innocent men and women who may have only said one word out of line. How broken he was after the destruction of Kirkwall’s Chantry. Faith lost among the ruins of thousands of lives sacrificed in a needless war.

She took it all. All of the self-loathing he held inside. The despair and fear. She let him tell her of all the things ravaging his mind. Nothing fazed her, not even the sick and twisted imaginings of the tower. Whatever he told her, she kept. Her eyes never left his. As he ended his tale, she drew him to her. There was nothing else to give. She had heard all of his darkest secrets. 

He gathered himself and tried to reign in his shame. She only pulled him closer. “No.” Her voice barely escaping her lips.

“Inquisitor, jus…”

“No.”

He could not walk away. Her grip was strong, but she would let him go if he truly wanted. 

“Ada-“

“Just Mina, please Cullen.”

“Mina,” he whispered. Her name felt as honey on his lips. “Let me have some time.”

“Promise me something first.”

“Anything.”

“Never even look at lyrium again. If you want to conquer this, you will always have me. I promise.”

He couldn’t control himself. He cupped her face in his hands. Her lips parted slightly in question. Red flooded her cheeks. “Cullen?”

He kissed her. She did not respond immediately, but he did not care. He needed her, now more than ever. He had loved her since before she even dreamed of helping him. Words failed him, and he needed his actions to explain to her what she meant to him. When she replied to him, it was all he could do from pushing her to each door to lock it without losing their connection. Her tongue gently prodded his lower lip. He took his chance to deepen their kisses. Each breath they fought for only led to more. She melted in his embrace. A small moan left her, and she pulled away.

“Cullen, we can’t.”

Breathlessly he pushed forward. “Yes, we can.”

She pulled farther away from him and said, “I can’t take advantage of you like this. You would never forgive yourself, and neither would I.”

His anger boiled within him again. “Am I some drabbling maiden,” he shouted at her. “DO I LOOK LIKE THAT TO YOU?”

He slammed his fist into the wall. She shuddered away from him.

“Cullen I never wante-“

“What?! To hurt me? I just opened up to you,” seething rage poisoned his words. “I have never told anyone what happened at Kinloch, and you take it to mean I am to be sheltered like some child!”

He stormed out of his office leaving her to gape at his back. A scout ran to escape his path. The report in his hand found itself being rough housed into the Commander’s hands. Bandits camped two miles from Skyhold. He needed to relieve his tension. Convenience did not begin to explain that to him.

His horse sensed his anger and snorted at him. Once saddled and ready, the Fereldan Forder nuzzled his master. Cullen took small respite in the affection. That would not ease the pain he felt. He charged his mount out of the fortress, soldiers gazing at his retreat. A lone figure watched him from the battlements, tears flowing down her face.

=====================

Cullen reached the bandit hideout before dusk. His sword and shield comforted his rage. Laughter rose from the cook fires of the highwaymen. They had captured a few young women seeking refuge in Skyhold and were trying to decide who got to ravage who first. This only fueled Cullen’s fury.

Those who were sent to retrieve Commander Rutherford reported that a roar cut through the mountains. Some even claim that it was heard in Skyhold. The first scout saw the Commander cut down the first couple of bandits sitting at a fire. Blood spattered across the camp. He moved with the speed of the great lions of Antiva. Cutting through the men like paper, he was covered in their blood. His bloodlust never abated, even when the bandits tried to surrender. The women were rescued by Inquisition scouts, but efforts to calm the Commander did not succeed.

A hart gently approached the campsite. On its back sat a cloaked figure. Whispered words forced the Commander to face the new arrival. What he saw calmed the fire within him. He fell to his knees. The figure dismounted the graceful beast and approached him. Magic creeped from outstretched hands. The Commander reached for the growing silver light. The scouts reported that after Commander Cullen touched the cloaked figure bright light engulfed the area blinding them. 

====================

Cullen awoke in a strange room. The bed was softer than his in his quarters. The room was bare. A simple couch and a desk were the only other pieces of furniture in the room. He moved only to feel his muscles ache. A fire blazed quietly in front of him in a large fireplace. Sitting at the hearth, the cloaked figure hummed. He saw windows, but there was not enough light to see anything outside of them. He quietly edged himself to the edge of the four poster bed. With surprise, he noticed his armor was gone. 

He remembered his rage and leaving Skyhold, but once he got to the camp, his memories were no longer there. His head fell into his hands.  
“You’re awake,” the figure shifted before the fire, never turning to look at him.

He eyed the person suspiciously. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere safe.” The voice was familiar, but it was laced with sadness and pain.

“Who are you?”

“Does it truly matter?”

This provoked him. He rose up quickly and tackled the figure pinning them to the ground. The hood fell back as the person turned their face. They were slim, too slim to be a man. Pointed ears pierced dark hair, an elf. He pushed the woman’s arms above her head and whispered harshly, “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

He grabbed her jaw and made her look at him. The sharp caring eyes of his Inquisitor stared back at him. Defiance wrote itself across her face. He could only snarl at her. 

“Are you going to butcher me like those me?”

“They deserved death,” he snapped.

She pushed against his grip and spat, “They deserved a trial, not a massacre by a madman!”

Cullen pushed her deeper into the stone floor. “Oh now I’m mad?”

“Yes, you are mad. You won’t see reason. You blindly cause pain without realizing you are not the only one that’s hurting!”

“Shut up!”

“Stop hiding from yourself, Cullen! You can’t just –“

He needed her quiet, immediately. Her lips were still open when he crashed into them. Forcing her to accept him, he stopped her scolding in its tracks. He traced her lips with tongue and watched her fall under his control. His hands roamed down her linen shirt. He needed something to hold her. He ripped off the weak material and tied her hands with the remains. She gasped as he roughly drug her to the bed pushing her against one of the posts. He laced another length of cloth around it to keep her there. 

“Cullen, please.” She did not beg him to stop. Her eyes pleaded with him, but not for him to stop. She needed something from him, but he was blinded by his own desires. He did not want romance. He wanted to be sated. The raw desire growing in him since she watched over him in his darkest nightmares flooded his body. He had waited too long for release. 

He bit down on her neck hearing her gasp under the pressure. His hands ripped apart her breast band. The beautiful plump breasts filled his vision. He dreamed of this. Her gasps became moans as he licked her nipples and fondled her. Eliciting these sounds from a woman who was supposed to be holy caused his member to stiffen. She was his. That bastard of an elf who watched her every movement be damned. He was the only man who would have her. He nibbled her breasts causing more moans escape her lips. 

He needed more. He pushed her up the post by her throat. Cries of pain followed his hand as it unlaced her trousers. He kissed her to silence her complaints. The muffled moans only aroused him further. He bit his way down her body instead of kissing. Every bite enticing more cries from his lover. The trousers became a problem. They had to be removed. They flew across the bed followed by undergarments. She sat naked in front of him. Her eyes heavy from pleasure watched him. He basked in the beauty of her body. From the soft swells of her breasts to her reddening clit, all of it needed to be punished. 

Diving between her legs, he splayed her out before him. She could not contain herself. 

“Cullen!”

His name sounded so erotic coming from her like this. He licked her folds, slicing between them with ease. She was soaking with arousal, and he wanted more. He tortured her with his tongue. Every flick brought her closer to orgasm. She moaned his name over and over as he kept his assault going. He inserted two fingers into her.

“Maker, Cullen!”

He dislodged himself from her delicious clit and kissed her. “He’s not watching over you here.” His hand slid around her neck.

“You are mine,” he whispered into her ear. He slunk back down her body nibbling on her breasts as he fingered her. Her cries grew in volume as his pace mercilessly quickened. He relished every cry from her lips. His name became her mantra, her prayer. He drank from her as she shivered through her orgasm.

But his hunger was not sated. He trailed bites up her body as she tried to relax from her high. Unleashing her from the bed post, he pushed her to her knees. 

“Be a good girl,” he growled. Her eyes were filled with lust or was it love? He did not care at that moment. He pulled his tunic over his head and threw it behind her. She eyed his trousers. The bulging erection hid behind leather. He took his time removing his breeches and smalls. Her desperation for him took control. She lunged for his cock. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back. 

“Not yet.” He pushed her hands up his abdomen. Her hands felt cool against his hot skin. The cloth holding her wrists together only added to the sensation. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer. He pushed down his smalls and brought her to his hardened length. She took the majority of him but sputtered when he tried to push deeper down her throat. 

“Be a good girl and take all you can,” he purred. He felt her tongue along his shaft sending ripples of pleasure through him. She focused then on the head, swirling her tongue around the soft skin. He trembled at her touch and shook with pleasure. His release was close. She kept torturing his cock with her tongue until he almost came. Before he did he pulled out of her mouth. 

He lifted her by her wrists and pushed her against the edge of the bed. Her ass stuck up high in the air. He ran his hands over her, feeling how soft she was for such an accomplished fighter. He reached around her hips and found her clit. He circled the pearl with two fingers as he readied himself behind her. She was open for him and only him. He rammed himself into her. She cried out in pain and pleasure. His length being crushed by her tight walls. Every movement felt euphoric as he thrusted into her.

“Cullen! Yes!”

Her voice almost carried him over the edge. Her ass gave him the perfect cushion for pounding her into submission. His felt his climax coming faster and faster. Spurred on by his coming release, he drove himself faster into her. She thrashed under his hands. Her orgasm overtook her senses. Even once he came in her, he did not stop. He came again in her. She gripped his cock within her unwilling to let him leave her. He pulled out to flip her around. Her face pouted with the sudden loss of his member, but soon fell back into the mask pleasure once he took her again.

They called to each other as they reached their peak. She screamed his name as he came in her one last time. The groan escaping his lips was silenced by kisses. He collapsed beside her, sides heaving from the herculean effort. When he looked at the windows, dawn was peeking through clouds around the mountains. 

Cullen held Mina in his arms as he positioned them in the bed. Though she brought out the anger and rage within him, he could not deny the profound effect she had on him. She brought out the worst and the best of him and gratefully accepted both. Her breathing had slowed and her eyes fluttered shut as she fell asleep against his chest. 

One more thing to plague my mind, he thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Any suggestions and comments are always welcome! We'll start of slow and build up speed. Trust me, it'll get better and better as time passes.


End file.
